


Submit

by ndnickerson



Series: Red Label [18]
Category: Nancy Drew - Keene
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Smut, mild bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ned takes Nancy to a reception for work, and she decides to have some fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Mild S&amp;M.

Ned was in his uniform and that decided it for her more than anything.

The Chicago police force was holding a reception in the grand ballroom at a downtown hotel. The new commissioner was someone important and Nancy, for once, couldn't bring herself to care. Jamie was with Hannah for the night and Nancy had every intention of getting wasted, suffering through her hangover the next morning, and picking up her son at noon.

In the meantime, though, she wore a long clinging dress of slate-grey silk, thigh-high stockings and stilettos. Ned had watched her put her entire ensemble on. He had also tried to get her out of it a few times, but she had smiled sweetly whenever she reminded him that he had been named to a very big task force and it was important for him to be seen there and they would have the rest of the night for whatever he had in mind. And he had grumbled and sighed with poor grace and she had adjusted his tie, thinking that while seeing him in a suit always made her wet, seeing him in uniform made her want him so bad that she'd give him head without the complicated set of arrangements that usually accompanied that particular favor.

By the long thinly veiled glances he was directing at her, the feeling was mutual.

The valet bowed and smiled as he took the car keys, and Ned offered her his arm, and during the first few steps she let herself just breathe, although under her wrap and under the cool glide of the satin over her breasts she could feel her nipples going tight and sensitive, and it had nothing to do with the breeze off the water. Then they were through the doors and into the lobby, and Ned's captain caught sight of him from across the room, and Nancy swallowed. If she was going to do it, now was the time.

She turned on her heel, sliding her hand into her husband's hair, drawing his face close to hers. When he obeyed, his hand low against the small of her back, she brushed her lips against his earlobe, then whispered, "I give myself over to you, tonight."

And Ned, tall and impressive in his uniform, actually shivered slightly under her touch, and she could suddenly feel his breath against her cheek. "Oh," he said softly, and brought his hand up to trace down her cheek, pulling back a little so he could see her face.

Then his boss was in front of them and Nancy turned, smiling, shaking hands with the first of many dignitaries she'd see that evening.

The phrase was a white flag, although this time it was her payment on a bet they had made a few days before. She hadn't known, when she made the bet, that Ned had been practicing judo moves with an instructor at the academy. The look on his face tonight, though, almost made it worth it, to have been flipped over his shoulder and planted on her back on the mat, panting and wondering what the hell had happened.

"What would you like to drink, sir?"

Ned smiled at the waiter. "I'll have a double scotch on the rocks," he said. "The lady will have a long island iced tea."

"And a water," Nancy added, relieved when she saw Ned's nod. He could order her drinks for her tonight. He could even fuck her in a bathroom stall if that's what he wanted. That was what the rules were. By timing it like this she had virtually guaranteed that if he didn't fuck her in the car, she'd be surprised if they made it any further than the rug at the front door. Ned was many things but he wasn't patient, not in this. Now he'd have at least an hour to think up everything he wanted to do to her.

Nancy took a long sip of her iced water when it arrived, but it did nothing to cool the flush she could still feel rising in her.

The dinner was better than she expected, and she kept ordering drinks, without Ned's prompting or interference. The waiters were just bringing around the dessert trays when a dignified older man in a bow tie stood and struck his fork against a waterglass, calling for attention. Nancy had just looked up when Ned slipped his arm around her waist, leaning in close, his hand resting against the spill of satin over the V between her thighs.

"As soon as you can," he whispered, and nipped at her ear, and she closed her eyes, thankful for the generous tablecloth as she felt one finger deliberately trace between her legs, pressing firmly until it met the tight join of her thighs, "go to the bathroom and take your panties off."

She could feel the wave of heat rising in her cheeks, but she made herself smile, forcing herself not to shiver when his breath touched her bare skin. "Yes," she agreed.

His hand caressed the plane of her abs once, lightly, and then he was gazing with rapt attention at the speaker and Nancy's head was pounding with adrenaline and desire. She took long sips from her water glass, and when a drop of condensation fell onto her skirt, she excused herself immediately, anticipation making her hands shake.

Once she was in the bathroom, she put her palms flat on the counter and stared at herself in the mirror. Her face subtly flushed with arousal, her nipples were indeed hard, and obviously so; the low drape at the back left nearly the entire line of her spine bare, and the fitted satin clung too close to disguise any of her curves. She shut herself in the cleanest stall and took out the bandages she had tossed into her bag just before their departure, and when she pulled her dress back over her shoulders, the clean curves of her breasts were unbroken.

She nodded in satisfaction before she hiked up her skirt and began the process of unfastening her garters. Half the time she didn't bother wearing panties with them anyway, since they were usually just for her husband's brief benefit, but that was when they were at home, alone, together. She stepped out of one heel, balancing on the other to avoid placing her stockinged foot on the tile floor, and soon her panties were stuffed in her purse and the clinging skirt of her gown had gently whispered back to touch her ankles, and she felt naked.

She looked down, gazing intently where the gown fitted against her hips. Would anyone be able to tell? She lifted one knee experimentally and her inner lips slid against each other and her clit was already swollen, and she moaned quietly to herself. She couldn't tell from the drape of the skirt, but she could feel the cooler air like individual drops of moisture between her thighs, and she knew soon she would be slick, slick down to the lace tops of her stockings.

Just like he wanted her.

She was just unlocking the stall to step out when she realized that if she had made her declaration of submission before they had left the house, if they had even made it out the door at all, he probably would have had her putting the clamps on instead of just taking her panties off.

She gave a mostly fervent, mildly disappointed prayer of thanks and swept out just when two other women were coming into the bathroom, but by the time she made it back to their table, the combination of the feel of air between her legs and the thought of his fist wrapped around a chain that was clamped to her clit, meant that her thighs were already slick, her every step a reminder of her simmering arousal.

Her iced water was still empty, but a fresh long island iced tea was waiting for her. She gulped it down, barely feeling the alcohol burn down her throat, then wrapped her hands around the glass, her palms coming away slick with the chill of condensation. The speaker cleared his throat and read off a series of crime statistics, his voice heavy with significance. Nancy drew her index finger down her forearm and watched in fascination as a line of gooseflesh followed it.

She discovered that if she kept her legs together, thighs tight but not too tight, her heartbeat didn't pound quite so insistently in her ears. That and the next drink were calming her down when the speaker stepped down, and then her breasts were shifting against the satin as she clapped with everyone else.

The band struck up, and Ned stood. Nancy noticed with a mixture of amusement and begrudging admiration that he had somehow been able to keep himself from exhibiting a physical reaction to their little game; she knew from personal experience that his uniform pants weren't cut to keep an erection in check.

"Dance?"

He offered her his hand and said it like a question, but it wasn't. She nodded and let him lead her out to the floor, and then her body was fitted snug against his, his palm against the bare skin at the small of her back.

"Did you?"

In answer she briefly, but with a slow, deliberate caress, pressed her hips to his. "They're in my purse," she murmured, nodding back at the table.

"And yet," between them, his hand brushed her now-smooth breast before returning to rest on her hip, "you seem to be less... excited, than before."

She smiled, then put her head on his shoulder, her lips brushing his neck. "Band-Aids," she admitted, softly.

He laughed, genuinely, and she closed her eyes, happy at the sound. "I don't remember saying that was all right," he replied, but his voice was good-natured.

"Then you can rip them off with your teeth when we get home."

The hand at the small of her back momentarily pressed her hips closer to his, and she bared her neck, blushing softly when his erection pressed against her leg, through his pants and the thin barrier of her dress. "Don't give me ideas," he growled, even as every pause in the dance meant that she arched her body against his, craving the evidence of his desire. She was imagining that it would look very conspicuous, very conspicuous indeed if she pulled her skirt up so that the slit went up to her thigh and then wrapped her legs around her husband's waist, that it would be very wrong for her to whisper dirty things into his ear and unzip his fly and then feel him drive into her in one single possessive thrust as he fucked her against the wall.

She gazed up at him, heavy-lidded, and remembered how badly she had wanted just that very thing on prom night, except then she had had very little idea of how it would feel. It had all been biological imperative drowning her fear, desire and curiosity overwhelming her doubt, and the heady power she felt at seeing him tremble when she did so little as stroke her fingers over him.

Now she had a thousand different scenarios in her head and the power was no less intoxicating. Sex swing, she thought suddenly, and her clit throbbed once, her knees almost buckling. Maybe they would use that tonight.

Except they'd have to set it up and there was no way either one of them would last that long.

Her lips parted. "If this skirt was a lot shorter," she complained softly, her hips rolling in answer against his with another slow, meaningless thrust. The tented front of his pants was pressing her skirt between her thighs, and she wished desperately for a tango, an excuse to hook her leg around his waist, a reason to open her legs and have him fuck her through their clothes. Even better, she thought, gently nipping at his neck, if she managed to get his fly unzipped and he really was fucking her, in front of everyone.

Band-Aids definitely weren't going to be enough if she didn't make herself calm down.

"If your skirt was a lot shorter I'd have you bent over the buffet table," he told her, his voice hitching a little as she opened her legs a little more, her knee peeking from the slit in her skirt as she ground against his frustrated cock. "Fucking Band-Aids," he gasped, sparing a long glance at her breasts. "Don't do that again."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said lazily and completely insincerely, nipping at his earlobe. "Because it's okay for you to dry-hump me on the dance floor in front of your captain and partner."

His nails dug against her spine and she arched, gasping. "Are you wet," he growled, half-demanding, and they were nearly still, locked together.

How could he not tell, she wondered hazily; but for his pants he was practically inside her. Then she thought of how slick she was and how insistently they had been grinding together, and wondered just how long it would take a few thin layers of satin rubbing against her to show the proof of her arousal, in a far more damning way than a few bandages could cover.

"So wet that if we don't stop, you won't be the only one trying to distract people's attention from your crotch."

His eyes widened slightly. With every turn they had been traveling further and further from the center of the floor; now they were definitely at the outskirts. He strode forward a few steps and only the sudden pressure of his hand at the small of her back kept her from slamming into the wall.

"Can you tell?"

He took a step back and she glanced around as he briefly but intently stared at her waist. "You're fine," he answered, and she sighed. "But I don't think I am."

She glanced down and immediately covered her mouth. His cock was very definitely standing to attention, as much as it could under his pants. "Maybe you could just hang your hat on it," she giggled, and he shot her a withering glare.

"Or I could jack you off," she shrugged.

He appeared to consider it for a split second before frowning. "Like that wouldn't be obvious," he replied, even as her eyes sparkled in amusement. "Maybe you could go find an ice machine."

"Because taking you to the emergency room with frostbite on your dick was just the kind of evening I had in mind," she said, but she couldn't keep a straight face, and by the end of it they were both gasping with laughter.

"Can I join your little party?"

Nancy glanced up, still flushed with amusement, to find Ned's partner gazing at the two of them. "Hi Bill," she said, smiling. "No, but you can ask me to dance. Ned just told me he's going to sit this one out."

Ned's hand tightened warningly on her back, telling her that she'd pay for it, but he let her go. She shot him a sympathetic look over Bill's shoulder, hoping that her husband could do enough calculus and baseball statistics analysis in his head to calm down before the music ended and they had to somehow get back to the table without incident.

"Boring, isn't it," Bill said sympathetically, and Nancy glanced up into his handsome face, blue eyes widening with incomprehension for a moment before she understood what he had said. What she had been imagining definitely hadn't been boring.

"It's not so bad," she replied, tossing her hair. When her shoulders rolled, her breasts moved, and she caught the almost imperceptible shift his gaze made, from her eyes down, back up again, face gone blank and bland.

God, she was wet. There had to be a broom closet somewhere. She didn't care if Ned pinned her to the wall next to a Dirt Devil, just as long as he wouldn't stop. Even though she had given him the right to tease her to the edge as many times as he wanted. She bit back a moan of frustration. The expression on Ned's face as he watched his wife dance with his partner just confirmed her worst fears for what would come later.

She was going to love every minute of it.

Nancy cupped Bill's upper arm through his jacket and tilted her head, gazing in him with rapt wonder at the feel of his hard muscle. "God, you must be strong."

Bill gave her a smile she could only describe as indulgent; he wasn't stupid, but she also knew that he had found her attractive from the first time they'd met. "I can bench ten more than your husband," he said, giving her an exaggerated wink, leaning in with a mock leer. "But who's counting."

"So you could lift me over your head?"

Bill snorted. "Give me a break. One-handed, sweetheart."

The music had been swelling, quicker and louder. "Now," she half-commanded, and Bill grasped her hard at the waist and lifted her in perfect time, her hair falling over her cheeks as she gazed down at him, laughing. He let her fall and caught her just before her feet touched the floor, and she couldn't stop laughing, very aware of how warm his hands were on her hips. He really was a handsome man.

She sighed as her last brief chuckle faded, and she was eighteen again. She hadn't flirted so shamelessly since, definitely not with anyone but Ned, but that pull was still there, the desire and knowledge that she could provoke such naked reckless interest from someone else. The angle of her head, the way she peered at him from under her eyelashes, the way her hand lingered on his arm, it was all instinctual, and now it all belonged to someone else, someone else's life.

She took a step back, straightening her spine. Bill had been gazing at her mouth and she felt like she had pure gasoline in her veins, unforgiving strength, but she hadn't felt that preternatural tingle work its way down her spine.

She hadn't tried herself in quite a while. She had been afraid of what she might find.

She glanced up at him, apology in her eyes, thinking that what she wanted most was to drag her husband to a broom closet, get on her knees and suck his cock until he buried his hands in her hair and screamed his pleasure.

"Thank you for the dance," she whispered around a suddenly thick tongue, and before Bill could say another word she was marching back over to Ned. She hadn't seen that expression on his face in quite a while, either, but now it was tempered with something else. She was his; she had reaffirmed it. Flirting with his partner, in public, the way she had done so many years before, when his feelings had been of considerably lower importance to her...

He opened his mouth but she brought her hand up and pulled his face down to hers, tongue glancing against the edge of his earlobe. "I want you," she moaned, maneuvering him so that she was between him and the wall, in the shadow of a large potted palm, away from the sight of casually prying eyes. She pressed her breasts against his chest, sliding the backs of her fingers down deliberately until she reached between his legs, then stroked the straining hard-on she found there. "Let me suck you off," she breathed, and he let out a long, shaking breath before he nipped gently at her neck, then left a lingering hard bite on her shoulder. She forced her eyes open, as her husband slid his own hand down to cup between her thighs, then shoved her back hard so that her ass hit the wall and she was left with nowhere to go.

She was just glancing around the room, Ned sucking in a sharp breath as she began to toy with his zipper, but when she saw the man in official uniform heading purposefully toward them, she allowed herself a tiny moan before shoving Ned away, gently but firmly.

"Hey," he protested, brows pulling together, but with a small jerk of her chin, she made him turn. Ned's eyes were glowing, and she saw the fine sheen of sweat gleaming on his neck, even as he put a smile on his face for his commanding officer. Oh, she had him, she thought, even as her clit tingled, the brief but firm press of the heel of his hand having swelled it expectantly again.

Usually it was all so black and white, the question asked and answer given. It had been so long since the anticipation had drawn out so sweetly, and as Ned, his spine straight as he did his best to calm down, turned to face the man, Nancy arched and let her shoulder blades strike the wall behind her, her chest heaving with exertion. She could feel it, that magnetic pull between them, the insistence that colored her every thought demanding that she must do anything, get down on her knees if she had to, beg, plead, if only to feel him.

It wasn't like this, for him. If he asked, she practically stripped naked before he could get the entire question out. If she asked, he could, and sometimes did, say no. She wasn't sure if he understood that, even if they weren't trying to get pregnant, even when it was just for the sheer pleasure of it, her desire for him was terrifying. If she had known, when she met him, how fully overwhelming the physical aspect of their relationship would become, she wasn't sure that she could have done it, that the fear wouldn't have driven her away.

She had never, in her life, wanted to feel so weak, so enthralled, so fully and painfully connected to anyone. Much less Ned, much less her heart. Nothing had driven that home any harder than running into the hospital, seeing him on the ventilator, so still and so alone. Sometimes while he slept she gazed at that puckered pale scar tissue and wished with all her heart that she could take it into herself instead.

She wanted him inside her. Not the slick temporary clench of their always and ever too brief lovemaking, and not another baby, even though in some deep strange corner of her heart she wanted that glorious knowledge, that when he arched over her, buried between her thighs, that piece of them would grow for nine months inside her, where everyone could see his love for her.

She wanted to pull her skin apart and pull him in. She wanted to put his palm over her heart so he could feel it throb every time she thought of him. She wanted to show him that she was sorry for every single time she had ever made him doubt that she loved him, and how awful and terrible and untimely it had been for her to finally realize the depth of her feelings for him only once his parents were gone.

She had been told, over and over, that it was right to wait, to be totally sure, not until the wedding, but, and it pained her and filled her with awe whenever she thought of it, it hadn't fallen into place for her until the night she had let him in. She had been glad for their distance, until that night. She had been glad that their lives had been so separate, that she had somewhere to retreat.

And she was so glad that he had been the one to make love to her the first time, that it had been his lips, his hands, his cautious desire. She was so glad that it hadn't been any of the other men, any of the ones she had met on cases, in that half of her life, ones who were in it for the excitement but not for the days without makeup, not for slogging through research or drinking tepid coffee during long stakeouts. She was so glad they had taught each other, that they had slowly wakened such consuming desire in each other that now, five years later, she couldn't imagine anyone else, she would never want anyone else, and every single cell, every single molecule in her entire body was keyed to him, to his need.

Sometimes, she knew, she hated him, and it was all to claim that distance again, to give herself some space, to hide from him that she needed, craved his attention and understanding and thoughtfulness that much. Every now and then she felt petty and childish about it, knew that she was being petty and childish herself, but that didn't change it. She had never hated him more than when he had been shot, only because the depth of her own despair had shocked her to the core. She hated needing him this much, hated him for making her realize it, more completely than any declaration of love or romantic gesture ever could have done.

But it hadn't touched him that way, and she understood then that he had been through it a thousand times before, and the revelation of his need for her was an old one, even if it was no less complete.

She pushed herself off the wall, slowly, barely noticing Bill's veiled and appreciative glance at her as he whirled another partner around the dance floor, and walked up to her husband, sliding her arm into the crook of his. He shot her a slow meaningful smile, and as Ned's superior glanced over her, Nancy had just opened her mouth to make some charming and utterly false excuse for why she needed to pull him away when his eyes lit with recognition.

"Why, Miss Drew. Such a pleasure to see you here tonight."

"Mrs. Nickerson," she said, returning the smile. Most of Ned's coworkers and people from her life before still called her by that name, but when she was with Ned, she knew it gave him a flush of pride to hear her calling herself by his name.

"Of course." She had slid her arm out of Ned's to shake the other man's hand; Ned's hand, out of sight behind her, was slowly, deliberately tracing down her spine, his fingers angling to drag his short nails against the small of her back. She straightened and Ned made a very soft noise. "Did your father make it tonight, as well?"

"Just Ned and me," she apologized, sliding her arm around her husband's waist. Anything she could do was hampered by the weight of his uniform or sheer visibility. What she really wanted to do involved sliding her hand into his pants pocket, then leading him by virtue of a firm grip to their car, the relative privacy of a broom closet, or even just behind that potted plant. "But I'll be sure to tell him you asked about him."

"Please do."

Nancy had just managed to lead Ned away, her fingers wrapped firmly around his wrist, when he suddenly stopped, his hands cupping her hips and pulling them back to rest firmly against his. They were still in full view of the dance floor, and Nancy was just opening her mouth when Ned's lips touched her neck, and she sighed, eyelashes fluttering down.

"Seems like I'm supposed to be the one giving orders."

"You are," she affirmed with a half-moan, resting her hands against his.

"And I seem to remember hearing you say," his breath was warm against her ear as his voice dropped to the barest whisper, "that you wanted to suck me off."

She nodded. Every vaguely erogenous zone she had was screaming for his touch.

"Grab your purse and meet me at the car."

He gave her one last deliberate squeeze and headed off to say his goodbyes, while she made a beeline back to the table. Her purse was still there, as was a fresh long island iced tea. She considered for a moment, then took a long sip, noting that it tasted like nothing so much as water.

Valet parking, she remembered, halfway through it. Oh.

When he found her out front, she was leaning back against the car, wrap twined around her elbows, breasts thrust out proudly. In deference to him she had taken the Band-Aids off, and she shivered as her nipples, drawn tight from the cold, slid against the silk lining of her dress. Ned just stopped and stared at her for a moment, ignoring the far too interested valet attendant, and she pushed herself off the car in one quick movement and stood facing him. "You," he began quietly, and the naked desire on his face sent a flush over her skin.

They were halfway home when he took a sudden turn, and she wasn't entirely sure where they ended up, she only knew that there was enough cover. He locked the doors, turned off the ignition and climbed into the backseat, and she kicked off her heels before she joined him, pulling the tight waist of her skirt practically up to her breasts to give herself space to maneuver.

By the time she knelt over him, her skirt loosely draped around them, he had his pants unzipped, his straining cock standing to attention. He glanced up at her and she couldn't help herself; she giggled, at the joy of it, at not being home, of making love to him when anyone could walk by and see what they were doing. No one would, though. Ned would know where they could be alone.

"Now, Miss Drew, do you know what you were doing?"

Going along with it, she shook her head, shrugging the straps off her shoulders. Her dress slid down, revealing her breasts to him, and he stared at them for a moment before continuing.

"You were being a very bad girl, and I'm going to have to take you in. Your daddy's influence and your gold card aren't going to be any help to you."

She bit her thumbnail, leaning in close to him. "Maybe we can come to some kind of... arrangement," she murmured, shifting so that she was straddling his waist, her knees spread on either side of his hips.

He shook his head. "Put your hands behind your back, Miss Drew."

She obliged, and he pulled her wrists so tight, clinching the cuffs hard around her wrists so that her shoulders rose, her breasts rising with them. He released her hands and then drew her skirt up over her hips, revealing the lace tops of her stockings, her garter belt, the join of her thighs to him.

"This is especially bad," he told her sternly, as he stroked his cock a few times. "I'm going to have to punish you for this."

"I've been punished before," she told him, tossing her hair out of her face, defiant.

"Yes, but, Miss Drew, I'm going to break you," he promised, gazing up at her, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from dissolving into giggles again. Unless he has his nightstick, she thought.

"With your nightstick?" she asked, widening her eyes dramatically, maneuvering her wrists in the cuffs so that her breasts trembled, practically in his face. "Oh, please..."

"You can call it that if you want," he replied, pushing down at the small of her back as he held his cock at the right angle for her. He positioned himself, his fingers sliding wetly between her thighs as he found her entrance, and when he fitted the head of his cock between her legs she thrust her hips down smoothly, taking his entire length inside her.

"God," she murmured, spreading her knees wide, shifting his angle. Without her hands to brace herself, she couldn't thrust down as hard as she wanted; she groaned in frustration and Ned hooked his thumb between the cuffs, pulling them down so that she arched, presenting her breasts to him. He latched onto one and pushed himself forward in the seat, until he was buried to the hilt inside her and gravity had pulled her knees down, and she was anchored to him, the close space and the cuffs leaving her little room to maneuver. He thrust his hips up and she groaned, as he lightly bit her breast, lightly tugged her nipple between his teeth.

"Oh," she groaned again, and her palms found his knees, and with a cry of satisfaction she braced against them and thrust her hips. In answer he grabbed her hips, holding them still as he fucked her hard, his pants rasping against her ass, her clit tingling when it brushed the base of his cock. He began to push her hips back, then pull her to him so that she met him halfway, and she tilted her head back, baring her throat, staring up at the car's ceiling. His teeth grazed her other breast and she shivered, closing her eyes, scrabbling for anything she could use for leverage. She found the center console and wrapped her fingers around it, fucking him back desperately, tremors radiating through her.

"I see now," Ned managed, panting as another jolt of his hips pushed his cock deep inside her, "that I'm going to need additional reinforcements, to make you learn your lesson."

"But I'm so close," she groaned back, shifting the angle of her hips, hissing through her teeth as she thrust again. "Oh, oh fuck," she cried out.

He slapped her ass. "I want to tie you to the wall," he growled, and she shivered as his hips thrust against hers, his grip controlling the depth of her answer. "Hear you beg for it."

"Please," she whimpered. "Oh God, please, please..."

When they came she was grinding against his cock in a rough circle, her inner thighs tight against his hips, joined seamless. He buried his face between her breasts as she panted, the tremors of her orgasm drawing every last drop of his seed deep inside her, and then she felt his lips close over her nipple again and she tightened against him, smiling in satisfaction as he released one long, sated sigh.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

She shook her wrists, the cuffs chiming between. "Never," she purred. "But you're always welcome to try again."


	2. Chapter 2

In their house, as soon as they walked in, he unzipped the back of her dress and she let it fall down her arms, pooling on the floor. She stepped out of the still-warm bundle of satin and bent over from the waist to unfasten her heels.

"No," Ned said, running the backs of his fingers over the curve of her ass. "Stay like that."

She straightened slowly, turning around to face her husband, her nipples tight at the faint chill in the air, and took his tie in her hand. "I have two favors," she said, peering at him from under her lashes.

"To ask?" He was unbuttoning his jacket.

She nodded. "Leave the uniform on."

"What's the other?"

She smiled. "I'll save that for later."

He moved in close and unfastened her necklace for her, putting it in the cup of her hand, gently taking her earrings out. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, tracing his fingertips down her spine.

"So are you," she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck, her nipples brushing against the front of his jacket. He kissed the side of her neck, fingers sliding down the ribbons of her garters, to the lace tops of her stockings, then cupped her ass in his palms, picking her up slightly, drawing her to him.

"I want to fuck you slow," he breathed into her ear, backing her into the door, her heels dangling. "Fuck you sore. I'm going to tie you up," he said, and nipped at her earlobe, nudging her legs apart with his knee, and she tilted her head back, straddling his knee as he cupped one of her breasts, his other hand coming up to stroke her cheek.

"Do you want another drink?"

She gently bit his lower lip, pressing her breast into the cup of his palm. "If you want me to have one," she murmured, the tip of her tongue coming out to flick against his upper lip.

"Go upstairs," he whispered, cupping her hips, his thumbs sliding under her garter belt to stroke the bare skin there. "Wait for me on the bed."

"Yes, master," she murmured, and when he released her she bent down slowly, aware that his gaze was following her as she swept up her dress, then swung her hips as she headed for the stairs.

He made her a drink, something strong, and fished an ice cube out, rubbed it over her nipples, traced it down her belly so that she shivered, and followed the path with his tongue. She drank as much as she could and gave him the rest, and he tossed it back, then told her to lie down on her belly and close her eyes. She heard him rummaging around in the drawer, and when she heard the metallic sound of the chain, she shivered. He had her turn over, her eyes still closed, and she panted as he tightened the clamps around her peaked nipples, then pushed her legs apart, teased her clit from under its hood, and tightened the other clamp around it.

"Okay?"

She stretched her arms over her head. "Pull once," she replied, and when he slowly lifted the chain and tugged it gently, she arched, whimpering.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Oh... yes."

She bent her knees, pulling them up as he hooked the weights on, and he bound her wrists together at the head of the bed, as she knelt on all fours, and slid her knees apart, binding them so that she could slide her legs open, open her thighs to lie flat on the bed, but not pull her legs back together. She arched experimentally and the weights tugged at her nipples and clit, making her moan.

"Fuck, you're beautiful."

She tossed her hair back, looking at him over her shoulder, kneeling on her elbows. "Remember how I had another request?"

"You can try it."

She slid her knees apart, watching him practically pant in anticipation. "You know that mirror in the other room?"

"Yeah."

She nodded at the head of the bed. "I want to watch you fuck me," she said, arching again. "I get wet just thinking of how hot you look in that uniform."

He smiled, shaking his head. "God, you're good," he told her.

She knew what he was doing; she caught glimpses of him in the mirror, and it was enough. When he parted her lips she was dripping wet and he didn't prepare her, just slid the dildo between her legs, cold, pushing it smoothly until she felt the nubs against her g-spot, and she slid her knees apart, the garters moving across her ass, as she propped the base of it against the mattress and began to fuck it slowly, her nipples brushing against the mattress with every thrust of her hips. The bedside lamp cast her in gold and shadow, and she watched her breasts tremble, her body arch sinuous and slow against the dildo.

His fingers were wet but warm as he gently rimmed her ass, slicking the lube inside her. "I didn't even tell you to do anything," he said wonderingly, leaning over her as he slowly worked, relaxing her inner muscles so she could take his cock.

She stopped, her hips spread and the dildo practically buried to the hilt between her legs, holding his gaze through the mirror. "Did you want me to stop," she murmured, jerking back slightly against him as he slid one finger into her ass.

"No," he said, thoughtfully, and brought his fingers out, slicking them with lube again. He used a condom while he fingered her, but the latex was so thin that she could feel the warmth of his skin through it. She thrust her hips again and shivered as the nubs pressed against her g-spot.

"What do you think about," he said.

"When?" She grunted, throwing her shoulders back, and the chain went taut, starting a building shiver.

"When you fuck that thing. What do you think about?"

"I think about how good it feels," she gasped out, her mouth falling open as he slid another finger into her ass, as her inner flesh tightened against the silicone.

"You don't imagine it's someone fucking you."

"Is that what you do when you give yourself a hand job?" She began to jerk against the dildo in short, hard thrusts, angling so that it rhythmically struck her g-spot. "Oh, ohhhh God. Oh fuck yes. I can't imagine it's you; you're bigger than this," she said, before she cried out, and she arched in desperation as he grabbed her hips, stopping her mid-thrust, her entire body trembling with the approach of her orgasm.

"No."

She writhed, bucking her hips, and he slapped her ass hard without releasing her. She met his gaze in the mirror, her own blazing, and deliberately rubbed her nipples against the sheet.

"Fine," he said, yanking the dildo out of her with such force that she panted, shrinking away from him. He pinned her to the mattress with his knees, crushing her hips under his weight, and she blew her hair out of her eyes and watched him, still in his uniform, roll the condom onto his cock and slick lube over it. Then he yanked her hips up, positioning her on all fours, and rammed the dildo between her legs just as he began to push his cock into her ass.

She struggled, against the bonds at her wrists and ankles, against the relentless thrust of the dildo, shivering when the weights tugged her nipples and clit. He timed his thrusts so that she was taking him in the ass just as the nubs were stroking her g-spot, and between the waves of incredibly erotic pain, she watched him, the buttons on his uniform gleaming blurs as he fucked her.

"Ned," she whimpered, arching, grinding against him. "Oh, oh yes, oh my God."

She slid her knees apart, fucking the dildo in the same rhythm as his thrusts, and he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back, his cock slick and relentless. "Who do you think about," he growled into her ear, and slid his hand between her legs, pushing the dildo in even deeper with the heel of his hand, and she almost choked as she gasped out a cry.

"You," she sobbed out, and her swollen clit was tugged by the chain, and he pushed his cock in a little deeper, and she was full, aching, overwhelmed, and when the nubs brushed her again she let herself come, gushing over his palm, her hips thrusting frantically, her toes curling at the spine-tingling agony of it. "Always you, always, oh yes, yes, fuck, yes," she panted, and when she met his gaze in the mirror again the electricity that sparked between them was too much, a deep shudder passing through her. He thrust twice more, long and smooth, and then he was wrapping a butt plug in a condom, pulling out of her so he could push it into her already sore and lubricated ass, and then he stripped the condom off. He straddled her bound arms and cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair as he pulled her up, as she writhed against the dildo, the unyielding pressure he had wedged in her ass.

"You're mine," he told her, as she pushed herself up on her elbows, her breasts swaying as she gently thrust her hips over and over. "Mine," he told her as he angled his cock up, urging her head down, and she shuddered as her lips closed around the head of his cock, as her tongue traced the bottom of his shaft. She could feel his hips trembling, could taste their sex as he watched her fuck herself, her hips writhing and jerking. She bobbed her head a few times, gently, his fingers pressing against her scalp, and then he forced her down and came with one hard thrust, crying out.

She blinked and then he was slowly pulling his cock out of her mouth, his hand limp at the back of her head, and she coughed, gasping for air. He gently worked the plug out and she moaned; he gently lifted her hips up and pulled the dildo out and she collapsed back to the bed, boneless, spent.

"God," she murmured, stretching when he freed her legs. He left her hands bound, but she turned onto her side as he gently bit her swollen nipples, following the chain with his fingers until he cupped his hand between her legs. He licked the sensitive tips of her breasts and brushed her clit with his thumb, and she trembled.

"Ned," she begged.

He tugged the chain with his teeth and she arched, bringing her knees up, but his hand was still cupped between. "Against the wall," he murmured again. "Arms up and your legs wrapped around me and you can watch me fuck you against the wall. God."

She started trying to work her wrist free. "Is that what you want?"

He pushed her onto her back, pinning her under his weight, his uniform rough against her bare skin, except where the weight of his cock pressed against her thigh, still wet with her own saliva. "You were playing tonight."

His gaze bore into hers. "Yeah," she agreed, her knees coming up, cradling his hips between her legs. "Ned, yes. I was like that with Bill," she said, her voice dropping lower, pressing her mouth against his ear, "because I love how you fuck me when you get jealous."

"What we just did," he said, a faint question in his voice. "Because God, Nan, I want to bend you over my knee and spank you, I want to leave bruises on you, I want to fuck you until you won't be able to sit down tomorrow. And when you fuck that vibrator I want you to be screaming my name."

"Free my hands," she panted. "Let me touch you."

When he did, finally, chafing her wrists gently, she reached up and pressed her mouth hard against his, her arms pinned only by his weight. She grabbed his lapels and held him to her, his uniform pants rough against her inner thighs as she squirmed under him, and she loosened his tie, unbuttoned his jacket. She flipped him over so she was straddling him, and he ended up sitting on the edge of the bed as she perched in his lap, slowly stripping his clothes off, while he teased her nipples with his teeth and tongue.

"Up," she murmured, and he stood, with her drawing his pants down, deliberately slow. When he was naked she reached for the fastening of her garter belt, but he shook his head.

"Not yet."

"You get to be naked and I don't get to be comfortable," she returned, her hands on her hips, and he gazed at her in rapt admiration.

"Just... just like that," he said, leaning back on his elbows. "You want me? I swear to God, answer the door wearing a trenchcoat over that, and I'll be yours for the taking."

She climbed up onto his lap again. "When I see you in that damn uniform, you're so fucking hot," she murmured into his ear, cradling his head against her bare breasts, and he slid his arms around her. "I want to suck you off, I want to get on my knees and suck your cock until you scream."

He bit her breast and she groaned. "So you did all that earlier just to drive me crazy."

She sat down, her knees on either side of his hips, straddling his thighs. "Sometimes," she said, and her heart started beating faster, "when you aren't home, and I start getting afraid, I think of you inside me." She cupped his face in her hands. "I think about you at work, when I'm driving, when I'm cooking dinner. I think about how I want you, and I didn't know... it wasn't like this, before, before we slept together. I crave you. When you... when you were getting better, I'd touch myself but it wasn't the same. I wanted you. I wanted you so deep inside me that it hurt, I wanted your hands on me, I wanted you saying my name. When I close my eyes I don't see anyone but you."

"What... what we just did..."

"I don't think about other men fucking me when you use toys on me," she said. "It makes me wet to think about you watching me, for you to get off on it. If you like jamming a plug in my ass and watching me fuck a dildo while I suck you off, that's fine." His eyes were glowing, and he tugged the chain sharply, and she panted for a second before she could continue, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. "But I love it best when you're so deep inside me that you can feel it when I come, that I can feel you shiver when you come, and it's like I've never been complete without your cock inside me."

His eyes were closed. "Nan," he murmured. "Oh God."

She grasped his cock firmly, watching as the clock ticked over to midnight. "Lie down," she murmured.

He let her tie him up, and she took her time about it, making sure his wrists were securely fastened the same way he had tied hers, leaning down so that her nipples brushed against his lips. He touched his tongue to them and she smiled, sweeping her hair out of her eyes, drawing her fingertips down the sensitive flesh of his arms. She slowly climbed off the bed and stood at the foot, staring at his legs speculatively. After a few moments of weighing her choices, she had him bend his knees and tied his legs open, much the same way he had tied her, except that he was on his back.

"Okay?"

He nodded, staring at her. She had given Ned permission to do almost anything to her, so long as it didn't leave marks any worse than bruises or cause lasting pain, but Ned's list of permissible activities was far shorter. Part of the thrill of it, though, was that in every session they had ever had, he had never used their safe word, even when she had pushed the boundaries a bit.

She went to the drawer and came back with a blindfold and something hidden behind her back. When his eyes were covered, she traced an ostrich tickler over his bare skin, teasing his nipples, drawing it lightly over his inner thigh. He shivered a little and she smiled.

"I should've known," he murmured.

"Should've known what?"

"That it was too good to be true." He jerked slightly as the feather brushed the head of his cock. "You're going to tease me until I'm out of my mind."

"That's usually the plan," she agreed softly, then stopped for a moment so she could step out of her heels. When she came back to the side of the bed, she was naked, save the clamps still between her nipples and clit. She slowly unfastened the weights, almost panting in relief, then saw the glass, the ice melted to slivers, the alcohol only a memory in the water.

She took a sip and let the cool water bathe her tongue, then wet her fingers with it and touched his chest. He gasped softly, as she teased his nipples to points, as she followed the path of her fingers with the tip of her tongue. She gently nipped a line down his chest, beside his belly button, and when he was straining to grab her and force her down to suck his cock again, she moved down and kissed his inner thigh.

Ned sighed. "I hate not being able to see you."

She blew gently on the head of his cock and he trembled in response. "I doubt that's true," she murmured.

"What?"

She kissed it, briefly, hard, pressing her tongue against the head, then knelt over him, quietly, so that he had only the vaguest sense of her. He startled when her hair brushed his cheek, when she leaned down and whispered just into his ear, "This way you can pretend I'm whoever you want me to be," she said, and bit his earlobe gently.

He chuckled. "Not if I want to leave this bed intact."

She smiled and kissed his cheek, then his mouth, and as he deepened the kiss she balanced herself on her knees and elbows and managed to unclamp her nipples. She sighed into his mouth in relief, and when she pulled back, she ran her nail over his nipple to harden it again, then slid the clamp over it.

Ned almost arched off the bed. "God... these yours?"

"Yeah," she admitted, clamping his other nipple.

"Damn. I so love seeing them on you."

"Well, you can't see me, anyway." She leaned down and kissed his cheek again. "Besides," she murmured, jerking her hips once and feeling them both shudder in response, "I couldn't find anywhere to put that last one, so I guess I'll have to leave that one on..."

He groaned. "Oh, hell yes," he said, arching under her, and she tugged back, her mouth falling open. "I'm imagining you going down on me," he said. "But you don't seem to be doing it."

"I said you could imagine I was someone else, not an entirely different scenario where you have me bent over the back of the couch and you're fucking my brains out during the six o'clock news."

"Do you fantasize about that?"

It was easier, somehow, not being able to see his eyes; she leaned over to dip her fingers in the cooling glass again and her nipple brushed Ned's lips again, and this time he closed his mouth around it and suckled gently. She closed her eyes, hissing at the sensitivity in the rose-dark skin, and stroked cooler fingers over his cock.

"Yeah," she murmured, squeezing the head gently. "In my daydreams you've fucked me on every flat surface in this house."

"I must not have time for much else." He was moving restlessly against his restraints, arching up as far as he could to somehow touch her.

"You don't," she agreed, and slapped his hip hard with her wet palm. "Be a good boy."

"I don't want to be a good boy," he replied, and she let out a moan when he managed to tug the clamp on her clit. "I want you to put your damn mouth on my cock. That's what I daydream about, you under my desk and my hand buried in your hair while you suck my cock."

She straddled him, opening her knees until her wet inner lips were touching his abs. "Do you call me your bitch?" She nipped at his neck and he craned to find her. "Do you jack off, or do you call me for phone sex?"

"Oh my God yes," Ned murmured, squirming under her, trying to find his way to her. "Baby, touch yourself, make sure you're wet for me."

She grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head back so that he bared his throat to her. "I'm giving the orders," she hissed. "You do what I tell you."

"Why aren't you..." She brushed her nipples over his and he trailed off. "I want to see you," he said, a note of pleading in his voice.

"Half the fun is when you don't." She leaned over to pick up the tickler, then traced it slowly up his legs, watching his face. The movement caught her attention and she saw herself in the mirror, naked, perched over her husband's body, chained to him. She shifted her hips back and the chain went taut and they both groaned.

"Feels so good," he mumbled, tugging impatiently at the restraints.

"Yeah," she murmured, noticing that her hips were in position over his, and he was already quite hard. She drew the tip of the feathers over his arms and slid her knees apart, and when she couldn't stand it anymore she grasped his cock and led the head of it over her sensitive flesh, over her throbbing clit, down to trace between the wet folds and the impulse to angle him against her and then fuck him senseless was strong. He groaned in outrage when she pulled away, shivering, the chain tight and his entire body practically quivering in anticipation.

"I swear to God, I promise, right now, if you just take these damn cuffs off, I'll..."

"I know," she replied, and dipped her fingers to trail them over his chest again, to watch him squirm before she followed the moisture with her mouth. "I want to do something but I can't, the way you're tied up right now, so you stay perfectly fucking still, all right?"

"Yes, mistress," he agreed, a smile in his voice.

She took the cuffs off his knees and he stretched, and she looked at his wrists, trying to figure out the logistics, but before she could stop herself she leaned down and whispered into his ear, his skin warming under her caress, and he nodded.

She freed his wrists and he immediately shoved the blindfold off, and his gaze traced the chain linked between his nipples, disappearing between her legs. He pushed his shoulders back experimentally and watched her squirm in answer.

"God, that's nice," he murmured. "You have to be sore."

"Yeah," she admitted, grabbing his shoulders and straddling him as she gently took the clips off his nipples, then leaned back on the bed, opening her legs to him so he could take the one off her clit.

"You didn't want to try it still wearing this?" He traced his fingers over her wet flesh, and her mouth trembled.

"Another time," she promised, tensing, and then collapsing to the bed once he had taken it off her.

"Like this?"

"Yeah."

She was sprawled lengthwise over the bed, so there were no pillows under her head, but she didn't care. He knelt over her, sliding his fingers inside to make sure she was wet, before he carefully opened his knees, and when she felt him just inside her, his inner thighs were against hers, the weight of his knees pinning hers apart, and he had her in perfect control as he entered her, his mouth brushing hers.

Her clit was still incredibly sensitive to the touch, so sensitive that between his first gentle thrusts he barely stroked the tip of his finger over it and she gasped, shuddering. She looked up at him, holding his gaze as he moved over her, and she wrapped her arms around him, unable to let him go, unable to resist touching him.

"I want you closer," she whispered. "I want to open my skin up." She shivered as he brushed his thumb over her nipple.

"I know," he replied, his gaze still on hers, the sheer magnetism of it overwhelming her. He had been rough all night; now his caress was light and delicate, and she bucked under him, impatient, her every nerve screaming for his touch. He was keeping his thrusts shallow, as though to punish her for her earlier teasing.

"Ned..."

"Shh," he whispered, kissing her. He gently flicked his thumbnails over her nipples and she arched, one hand buried in his hair, the other drifting down, rising and falling with the undulation of his hips. Their tongues met and he was kissing her lazily, mouth slanted hard against hers, and she reached down to press against his hips. He pulled back, gazing down at her.

"Deeper," she whispered, pulling her knees back. "Come. Make me come."

He moved and then thrust forward hard, holding her arms up over her head, and she let out a low cry. She moved her knees and he released her wrists to force her knees apart, to force her hips to the right angle, and he wasn't paying attention to her anymore, but she didn't care. When he thrust she shivered, bucked, whimpered in answer, when he squeezed her nipples she gasped, but she could feel him, driving deeper with every thrust. He slid his hand between them and methodically rubbed her clit, and she writhed under him until the driving rhythm triggered her orgasm, her toes curling, nails dragging down his back. He fucked her harder, she blinked and then he was staring into her eyes again, and she held his gaze, her every breath escaping as a higher groan.

"Come, come inside me," she begged, as her inner flesh tightened wet and hot around his cock. "Ned," she pleaded, her shoulders jerking up, and she couldn't stop the scream as he drove her orgasm higher. "Oh my God, oh my God yes, yes, oh please yes, yes," and he was groaning under his breath every time she tightened against him.

"Nan," he cried out.

"Now," she screamed, and he thrust so hard that he was flush against her hips, and she went still, so still, her eyes closing, and every light brush of his fingertips over her skin brought another aftershock, another tightening as her orgasm milked every last drop of him. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, keeping her pinned under him, and she wriggled under him, leaving him still buried inside her as she angled her hips, letting gravity help draw his seed deeper to her womb.

"I had my first wet dream about you a month after we met," he admitted, as his wife wrapped her legs around him.

"I'm disappointed that it took that long," she murmured, smiling.

"I'm thinking about you every second of every day," he replied, shifting over her. Muscles he hadn't heard from in a long time were complaining. "I always have. For a while it seemed like life would be easier if I didn't, but now..." He pushed himself up on his elbows, still buried inside her, and gazed down into her eyes. "Now it's all worth it."

She smiled, and he kissed her, then pulled out quickly. Immediately she brought her knees tight together, keeping her hips tilted up.

"You didn't do all that when you got pregnant with Jamie," he said, watching her as he searched for his boxers.

"I want a girl this time, remember?" she reminded him, clasping her arms around her knees.

"A girl conceived on a night we get drunk and tie each other up," he mused.

Nancy shrugged. "I think I was conceived during my parents' honeymoon."

Ned smiled. "I can't say that I ever asked," he admitted. He picked Nancy up, depositing her with her head on the pillow, and slid in next to her. He was on his side facing her when she finally straightened her legs.

"I always wanted a sister."

"I heard my mom talking to her sister on the phone when I was little. She was pregnant three more times."

"Three miscarriages?" Nancy's eyes widened in sympathy.

"And I always wanted a little brother or sister, but I think my parents were kind of relieved when they stopped trying."

"I never asked Dad if Mom was pregnant when she died."

They lay facing each other, gazes unfocused, and then he reached for her, pulling her against him to nestle into his chest.

"Wouldn't it have been great?"

"Nan, if you'd had a sister even half like you, you would have gotten into so much more trouble."

"And if our daughter is even half like me, at least she'll have Jamie to protect her."

Ned shuddered. "God help him."

She smiled and kissed his shoulder, snuggling under the covers, her bare skin like fire where it touched his. "Love you."

"Love you too," he whispered, squirming out of his boxers. When he put his arm around her again, she laughed.

"You get a little too claustrophobic, Nickerson?"

"I'm trying to be helpful," he said, mock hurt in his voice. "If you, by chance, I don't know, wake up in a few hours and decide to up your chances by riding me for a good half-hour, I just wanted to make that as easy as possible. For you."

"Oh, right," she chuckled. "You do know that I have to pick up Jamie at lunch. On top of the giant hangovers we're both going to have. And then chase him around the yard on top of all this."

"That's what Saturday afternoons are for," he told her, silencing her with a kiss.


End file.
